The real story
by SageK
Summary: Prompt: Rachel calls Mrs Puckerman to ask where Puck's juvie detention center is / what the visiting hours are / something like that.  Turns out it's a front - Puck is staying with is sick Nana until she gets better.
1. Chapter 1

Rachel Berry was self aware enough to know she was selfish and self involved, but she wondered what excuses the others in Glee club could have for their off hand dismissal of the news that one of their own was in Juvenile Hall. Despite the assertions of the inevitability of such by Finn and Santana (Honestly, not the most objective observers when it came to Noah), Rachel just didn't think the reason given by Mr. Shuester seemed like , he was a friend and incarcerated, so she decided to make him some cookies.

Possibly decorated with icing files and motorcycles. Noah liked Steve McQueen, he'd appreciate the Great Escape only problem was, she didn't know where juvie was or what the visiting hours were. Mrs. Puckerman would definitely know.

Dialing the phone, she wondered how the woman was dealing with the fact that her only son was in jail.

"Hello?" Well, she didn't sound too bad. That was something.

"Hello, Mrs. Puckerman, this is Rachel Berry, one of Noah's classmates."

She didn't know what, if anything, Noah had told his mother about was a pause before the woman replied, "Oh, yes, from his singing club. How are you dear?"

"Very well, thank you. How are you doing? It must be a terrible worry to have Noah…gone."

Again there was a brief pause, then a sigh. "Oh, yes, that."

Odd response, but Rachel plowed ahead. "I made Noah some cookies and I wanted to know what facility he was in and what the approved hours of visitation were."

"Aren't you sweet," Mrs. Puckerman said softly and then Rachel heard the woman muttering to herself. "My son, the shmendrik, how does he collect these gentile girls?"

"Oh, no ma'am," Rachel couldn't help but reply. "I'm Jewish."

"You are?" The woman's voice brightened considerably. "That's lovely. And you made Noah cookies?"

"Yes," she replied, "What juvenile hall is he currently residing in?"

"He's not in Juvie, dear," Mrs. Puckerman said with a chuckle. "He just wanted to have people think that. Claimed it would be better for his reputation."

"What?" She was confused, but considering Noah's feelings about keeping up his badass rep, perhaps it made sense.

"My mother is sick. He's staying with her for a few weeks while she recuperates."

So Noah preferred everyone think he was in jail instead of taking care of his ailing grandmother. It was both absurd and sweet."I'd still like to bring him his cookies…."


	2. Chapter 2

"I got it, Nana!"

Puck's Nana didn't really seem to want to let him do the thing he was there for, like cooking, cleaning up and answering the door. The doctors all said she needed to rest in order get well, so damn it, he was going to make sure she rested.

Pulling open the door, he froze, thinking he was having some kind of mental breakdown, 'cause there was no way he could actually be seeing what he thought he saw.

"Hello, Noah."

Huh. Maybe this was a belated trip or something. He'd never heard of a little weed causing visual and auditory hallucinations, but that didn't mean it didn't happen.

Shaking his head, he tried to shut the door, but couldn't.

"Noah!" Rachel Berry had placed one of her little hands, the one not clutching a small basket, on the door as she stared at him…_Shit, why was she wearing a little red cape? Was this some new kink he didn't know he had? _"Noah, stop that!"

Apparently, she was actually there. "What are you doing here?" he blurted, unable to fully process exactly what was going on.

She gave him one of those _looks _and said, "I baked you some cookies and when I called your mother to inquire as to which juvenile hall you were incarcerated in, she told me I could find you here."

Damn, he'd been certain the juvie story would hold up. Wait. "You baked me cookies?"

"I know it's traditional to bake a nail file into a cake," Rachel said, flipping back the clothe that covered her basket, "But as I'm loathe to break the law myself, I thought icing would have to suffice."

The cookies had little files and motorcycles drawn in icing on top of them. It was…kind of awesome. They were cookies made just for him. "Thanks," he said, then shifted slightly. "Did anyone else find out about, you know, this?"

With a sigh, Rachel said, "No, but honestly, running a car into a 7-11 and stealing an ATM? How is that a plausible cover story? You do some rather ill advised things, but that sounds nothing like something you would do.""Like you could have come up with a better story," he replied, a little offended. Did his cover stories really suck that much and, if so, was that why mom always caught on to what he was doing?

"Considering your social life, I would have gone with a particularly nasty case of Mono as the excuse for why you were missing school," she said with an authoritative nod.

Huh. That was a pretty good cover. With a sigh, he said, "Come on in. Have a cookie. I was just going to make some tea for Nana."

What the fuck was it about Rachel that made him say lame things like that. If anyone ever found out, his rep would take such a hit. Not that he cared. He was too bad ass to care…shit, it was happening again. Being around her made him think about stuff.

"Thank you," Rachel said, stepping into the house and handing him her little traveling cape. "May I say hello to her?"

Oh hell, Nana was gonna love Rachel. He could already picture her and mom plotting together, trying to matchmake. They could get pretty damn intense about the idea of the next generation of little Jewish babies, especially after last year.

Too late to back out. "Nana, a friend of mine brought us cookies…."


End file.
